


Out of Hand

by shortstackedcheesecake96



Category: South Park
Genre: Detective Kyle, M/M, Obsession, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortstackedcheesecake96/pseuds/shortstackedcheesecake96
Summary: Kyle is a bright, young detective who for years has been trying to catch the cunning, evasive criminal Eric Cartman. But whilst on a stake out with Stan, his obsession gets the better of him. A Secret Santa gift for Shay!





	Out of Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this isn't the most festive fic in the world, but nonetheless it is a Secret Santa gift for the brilliant, lovely, super cool Shay! She's such a wonderful contributor to this fandom, both in her fics, and her headcanons, and she's one of those people who really inspires me, and (even if she doesn't know it) pushes me to produce the best content I can for this ship, and for this fandom. So thank you for that, Shay! I hope you enjoy this little gift! You asked for an AU, so I decided to write a Crime one. I love Crime AUs, and after having so much fun with this one I hope to write more in the future! This fic is heavily inspired by Villanelle and Eve in 'Killing Eve,' and Jake and Doug Judy in 'Brooklyn 99' because even though those two shows have very different tones, you can honestly create a Kyman AU out of either of those characters' relationships. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

When Kyle graduated from the academy the last thing he envisioned himself doing as a detective was sitting in a dingy, old apartment building on a Saturday evening observing a suspect watch a ridiculous amount of reality TV. Then again, never did Kyle imagine meeting a person as infuriating, captivating, and evasive as Eric Cartman. He'd been on his mind since the moment he first picked him up for a spate of home burglaries taking place in a large, affluent area of Denver. Kyle had to wonder if his daily thoughts weren't serving as a magnet for Eric, constantly orbiting him. Although often it felt like the other way around.

"Jesus, is he still watching _Real Housewives_?" Stan asked beside him.

"Yep, this must be the fifteenth episode at this point," Kyle replied. He huffed, shaking his head, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Typical."

"Typical? What do you mean?"

Kyle tore his gaze away from Eric to face a puzzled Stan.

"It just seems like the kind of show he'd watch, don't you think?"

Stan shrugged, the dent in his brow deepening.

"No? I don't know, I've never thought about what TV shows he watches..."

"Well, he lives a pretty lonely life," Kyle replied, his gaze wandering to Eric once more. Oblivious, more annoying than ever but more normal than usual. Catching a glimpse of his small, distant world Kyle felt just as excited as he imagined wildlife photographers are when they spot their subject in the undergrowth. "He can't make too many friends, or have too many genuine, deep connections. So maybe watching supposedly real people interact, no matter how inauthentic, allows him to experience, like, friendships. Relationships. Plus, he likes seeing people squirm... and reality TV is the squirmiest form of media there is."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stan nodding to himself.

"You know, that was more interesting than anything we've seen Cartman doing."

Kyle sighed, his small thrills couldn't possibly stretch to these long, unpromising hours they had to spend in order to build a case.

"I think you're right. Makes you wonder why he decided to become a criminal in the first place, huh?"

"Not really," Stan muttered.

"Something must have happened in his childhood... that's usually where it all starts. Every case I've worked on, it's all the same. I bet he was a real little shit when he was a kid. Nothing was ever good enough, or exciting enough, or big enough..."

"Or just enough, period. Can we talk about something else?"

"What?" Kyle asked, bristling. "It's not like we're talking about anything appropriate. It's related to the case-"

"Yeah, I know it's all relevant to the case... I guess... but we're fucking surrounded by the case all the time, we're living it!" Stan replied, throwing his arms out. Each fingertip pointed to the notes, and blurry photographs pinned to the walls, the equipment placed on every possible surface. "We've been here eighteen hours already."

"And we've got jack shit!" Kyle snapped. "Nobody has shown up, or left, and neither has he, barely!" He shook his head and glared across the street. "How the fuck is he getting his supply? When does he get the chance to leave? When will _we_ get the fucking chance to finally catch this piece of shit!"

He threw his binoculars to the floor, his tired body trembling with adrenaline.

"Calm down, man, it's okay-"

"No, it's not, Stan! I've been after this guy for four years! For four years he's been making a fucking fool out of me! Tricking me, and luring me in, and fucking escaping me, but not this time! I swear to God, not this time! Until I catch this asshole, it's not okay, at all!

Kyle had seen Stan exasperated by him many times, especially regarding Eric. But Stan actually looked afraid of him now, eyes wide and searching for the Kyle he knew. But with Eric under his skin, Kyle had no idea who that was anymore. He had always been stubborn, determined, quick-tempered, but Eric had seemed to sharpen all those traits to near destructive levels. Seething and shaking, Kyle rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. He released a shattered breath when he felt Stan's gentle hand at his back.

"Sorry..." he murmured.

"It's alright," Stan replied. "I get it. It's... frustrating."

Kyle snickered. He was glad Stan was at least trying to find a word to describe it. Kyle thought such a task was impossible.

"Especially for you," Stan continued. "I mean, you've been through so much with this guy, and you've been so close. Of course it's gonna get to you..."

Kyle nodded, too drained to talk about it anymore.

"Hey, um..." Stan's hand stilled at his back for a moment. "Have you ever thought about therapy at all?"

Kyle blinked, and he was unsure whether the flush crawling up his throat was due to anger or shame.

"Huh?" he asked, looking at Stan.

Stan's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, and he sat back a little. His eyes flitted around the room, avoiding Kyle at all costs.

"Well, you know, I guess you couldn't be too specific if you're talking about an ongoing investigation but... it could help you relieve some stress, right? Clear your head, and just make life a little easier."

"No," Kyle replied, picking up his binoculars. "Cartman may drive me crazy, but there's no way I'm gonna see a shrink because of him. Fuck that."

"Okay, your views on therapy are, like, really outdated. There's no shame in seeing a therapist nowadays, or admitting you need a little help-"

"This isn't about shame, Stan, it's about principle," Kyle cut in, hoping to put the conversation to an end. "Life isn't supposed to be easy."

Stan sighed.

"But does it need to be this hard, though? Obsessing like this isn't healthy-"

"This isn't a fucking obsession!" Kyle snapped, even though that was only half-true.

Kyle still remembered the first time he interrogated Eric, discovered how charming and irritating he was in equal measure. Leaving an interrogation room feeling frustrated by a stubborn, smartass suspect was nothing new for Kyle. Hell, it came with the territory. When it came to interrogation, both parties have to be worn down to bring about success, a breaking point. Fascination, however, was unfamiliar to Kyle. He wanted to know so much more about Eric than was really pertinent to the case. Kyle was still kicking himself for brokering a deal with him. Leniency in exchange for ratting out his accomplice. Eric may have been alarmingly smart, but he couldn't pull off such a huge operation on his own. But Eric destroyed their deal by skipping town before he could reveal anything. Kyle had never been more humiliated. He had tried to console himself by remembering his inexperience, he was still fairly new to his job at the time. Although it seemed like a flimsy excuse when Kyle considered he was simply blinded by Eric's peerless charm. Especially since it happened again with the two cases of grand theft auto they had picked him up for, and each time he would disappear with the aplomb of a magician. But never from Kyle's mind.

Kyle thought about him every day. He thought about him at breakfast, in the shower, during his commute, whilst assigned on other cases, and when he couldn't sleep. And with the reappearance of Eric in his life, those sleepless nights were occurring more frequently as of late. In every quiet, solitary moment of his life Kyle would think what Eric was doing right then. He assumed something dangerous, thrilling, exotic, but with this recent insight into his day-to-day life, Kyle considered perhaps not. He thought about what exactly led Eric to the life he was living, what he loved about it, hated about it, what kept him going. He thought about his small, knowing smiles, his annoying smirks, and his self-satisfied, wicked grins that always managed to clutch Kyle's heart and send it racing in his chest. He thought about his swagger, and his voice - goading, dripping with confidence, and calculating every word so he never said the wrong thing - and his hands, his nose, his bright, amber eyes. A sweet shade of honey, shimmering like a feline. Kyle was starting to think he had just as many lives, was just as elusive and resilient. He wondered what he was like to live with, be friends with, if he had any. He wondered what his family were like, if they missed him, if he kept in touch with them at all. Was his theory right? Did they inspire him to lead a life of crime? Did they force him? Did he have any other choice?

Much to his humiliation, Kyle often woke up with a start at taunting dreams that would eventually turn erotic, and his mind would often wander to Eric's grinning face during the rare occasions he brought someone home. Needless to say, he wouldn't see them again after that. It made him too uneasy. Despite believing in love, and wanting a companion, that didn't necessarily make it easier to find someone for the long haul. His job was so demanding, and he already had a certain someone in his life who devoured all his attention. Any potential boyfriend or girlfriend deserved more than that, Kyle believed. He just couldn't give that to them right now. He held a deep belief that he hadn't shared with anyone, that once he finally caught Eric his life would be better. It was such a huge weight, a goal that had surpassed his duties, that achieving it would mean his life would be almost complete. Surely everything else would come easier after that, wouldn't it?

Kyle didn't believe in fate, but he was sure he felt the machinations of it when he walked into a meeting two weeks ago and saw Eric's photo projected on the screen. He was back in Denver again, dealing for a syndicate supplying an extremely dangerous new party drug that had killed a dozen college students over the past month. Despite Stan's concerns and objections, Kyle had pleaded with Captain Yates to assign them the case, more determined than ever that he would win this war. Eric had claimed far too many battles. Now Kyle would claim victory and justice, and reclaim his life again.

* * *

3am, and Kyle sipped at lukewarm coffee while Stan slept beside him. His eyelids were drooping, Eric's apartment slipping in and out of focus. Kyle had jolted and leaned in closer when he saw Eric emerge from the building about four hours ago. Clothes dark, hands tucked in his pockets, and with only a quick, cursory glance of his surroundings before strolling down the street, as if he wasn't on his way to commit a crime. Kyle would've allowed himself to enjoy Eric's nerve fully if it didn't piss him off so much.

Eric had yet to return home, and with every hour that crawled by Kyle was more drawn to Eric's apartment. His wandering mind led him to imagine how big or small it really was on the inside, was it clean, was it messy? Did Eric have many possessions or none at all? In his stop-and-start life what could he afford to keep, and what did he have no choice but to leave behind? Did he own anything of sentimental value at all? These questions not only passed the time, but gnawed at Kyle's greedy desire to know more, more, more about Eric. He felt the pangs of it like hunger when Eric's apartment was so close to him, like the most decadent, sumptuous cake just begging to be tasted.

But Kyle had to refrain. The consequences loomed large over such an impulse, no matter how visceral. He pouted like an impatient child. A stake-out was a gruelling, arduous process that couldn't be rushed. Although Kyle had started to wonder if actually going over to Eric's apartment when he was not there could be beneficial. Perhaps if he looked in the right places he could find a crucial piece of evidence, or in a riskier scenario, corner Eric when he came home and demanded he talk. As the night dragged on, the hours falling beneath him, it was appearing to be the more appealing option. In fact, it invigorated and enlivened him more than coffee ever could. Going over there was against everything he was told to do, every protocol he had to follow, but where had protocol got him with Eric? Nowhere. He didn't play by the rules, so why should Kyle? Kyle realised, he had been chasing Eric for so long now that, as far as he was concerned, the regular rules had expired.

Keeping his eye on Stan as he gathered his jacket and placed his gun in his holster, Kyle sneaked out before his partner could wake up. The chilly evenings he thought he was desensitised to initiated him again with a brisk gust of wind. He shivered, the wind felt like shocking cold water on his face, pleading he come to his senses. But he couldn't go back now. Once a craving was fed precious attention, it was hard to refuse it.

Eric's building was a quiet one. Perfect, Kyle guessed, for a tenant engaging in nefarious activity. Few neighbours asking fewer questions was ideal. No nosy, nocturnal neighbour came out to inquire why Kyle was trying to open the locked door to Eric's apartment, shaking the doorknob in frustration and rattling the lock inside. Kyle sighed, finally letting his eyes slip shut as he threw his head back in disappointment. Of course it would be locked! What did he expect to happen? But opening his eyes, he noticed he was standing on a thick, bristly doormat. Stepping off of it, he lifted the doormat up and a silver key winked at him in the glow of the dim-lit hallway lamps. A breath, as shaky as his body, escaped his lips and he smiled. Eric was practically inviting him in at this point. Exhilarated and more terrified than he had been in his entire career, it took him a couple of times to unlock the door with his jittery hand.

Slithers of faint moon and streetlights illuminated the quiet, dark apartment. Kyle felt for a light switch, and the weary bulb buzzed to life as it revealed the apartment in all its spectacularly ordinary glory. Shutting the door behind him, Kyle eased himself in. The furnishings were minimal and unfussy, and unlike in his criminal work, Eric had left traces of himself everywhere. A jacket hanging limp on a chair in the kitchen, an empty glass on the coffee table in front of the modest TV. The ultimate intruder, Kyle's footsteps were gentle and silent as he entered the kitchen, floating, ghost-like. He dragged his fingers over the smooth, small countertops, opened every cupboard to discover they were brimming with junk-food. Perfect snacks whilst watching _Real Housewives_. He snickered.

He then wandered into Eric's bedroom, and it housed a smell of faded, clean laundry. His bed was hastily made, and Kyle simply sat on it instead of fixing the crumpled corners, and the odd angles the duvet was pulled in. The mattress was plump and soft, surprising him as he sat down. He spread his arms, let his fingers fan out as they stroked the deep red sheets. He stared at Eric's wardrobe for a bit, before deciding to open it. Kyle didn't recognise any of the shirts or jackets that were hung up inside. He leafed through every sleeve like the pages of a journal he wasn't supposed to read.

The bedroom led to a small, white bathroom. Immediately, Kyle opened up the mirrored cabinets above the sink and avoided looking at his reflection. No, like staring at Medusa's hideous face it would set this odd, inexcusable venture into stone, into cold, hard reality. He spotted some cologne in a jet black, gleaming bottle. It appeared to be the flashiest thing Eric possessed, even when Kyle had seen photos of the hauls dripping with diamonds from those wealthy homes he had robbed, and those roaring, shiny sports cars he had snatched. He picked up the cologne bottle and pressed it to his nose. He inhaled the residual, familiar smell. This must be Eric's favourite, Kyle had smelled it before. He smiled, and decided to put some on. Sharp at first, it sent his nostrils burning. But it soon mellowed into a rich, sweet scent that Kyle knew wouldn't wash off so easily. Eric's face drifted into his mind instantly.

He soon returned to the living room, and above the sagging couch noticed the window that he and Stan had been observing Eric from. Startled, he moved away from it, and the closer he was to the door, the more he believed he could leave. He'd had his fill, he had slotted enough pieces together to form an intriguing enough picture of Eric. But before he could get too smug and congratulatory, he heard the doorknob twist. Like a deer hearing a hunter's gun click, Kyle stiffened immediately. Too rigidly frightened to duck, or hide, or run, or what. He just stared wide-eyed at the door, his heart pounding. The door opened, revealing Eric staring at it with a furrowed brow - no doubt wondering how it was already unlocked - and clutching a bag.

"Well... holy shit..." Eric grinned, eyes alight with surprise as he shut the door.

Kyle couldn't speak even if he wanted to. He was sure that if he opened his mouth he would just throw up all over the carpet. Eric made his way over to him, slow and hypnotic. Kyle was no doubt a perfect, nervous conductor for Eric's cool electric gaze.

"Long time no see, detective-"

"Where have you been?" Kyle asked, loud and abrupt.

Eric shrugged, his eyes wandering the room.

"Out. Working. You know how it is..." he turned to Kyle with a wicked half-smile, and arched his eyebrow at him. "Though, the real question is, why are you here and not across the street with your little buddy?"

_Shit._

Kyle tried to feign confusion and ignorance, but his features were trembling too much to pull it off. Eric sighed, seeing right through it.

"Kyle, come on, I know you guys are watching me."

Somehow, the admittance of it stunned Kyle even more. He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes growing wider to the point of exploding out of his sockets. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried to straighten his shoulders in an attempt to capture _some_ control. But Eric was already laughing to himself.

"So... uh... we haven't been able to identify anybody coming into this building who we can trace to the syndicate you're working for, so how are you-"

"Wait, before we get into this, I need to eat," Eric interjected. "I've had a long night, and I'm starving. Wanna join me?" Eric lifted the bag, with a smile made to convince. "It's Chinese."

Kyle nodded in lieu of any other alternative responses, and Eric's smile widened with approval.

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch.

Kyle sat stiffly on the couch, knees clamped together and leaning forward. No way could he relax. Eric, meanwhile, plopped down beside him. The couch bounced beneath him as he did so.

"Now, normally I don't believe in sharing food," Eric explained as he placed the bag on the table and opened it. He then pulled out various cartons and a pair of chopsticks. "But I'll make an exception, since you're my guest."

Kyle didn't reply, reaching out shyly for a spring roll, while Eric opened his carton of noodles and dug in.

"So how are things with you?" Eric asked, not looking at Kyle.

"Huh?" Kyle replied, bristled by his nonchalance and familiarity. "Oh, fine, I guess..."

"You sure?" Eric asked, smirking as he spared Kyle a glance. "I bet this case is getting to you, right? I must admit, breaking into my apartment is a whole new level of-"

"God fucking damn it, will you just tell me how you got involved dealing these drugs?! Please!"

Kyle was panting in the silence, wild eyes searching Eric's face. Eric swallowed the food he had in his mouth, his lips soon scrunching into a small, endeared smirk. He chuckled and shook his head.

"I've missed you..." he said, voice soft enough, and eyes lidded enough to make Kyle's breath catch in his throat. He felt hotter all of a sudden, simmering in both anger and embarrassment. "But to answer your question..." Eric shrugged again, prodded at his noodles with his chopsticks. "I'm not totally sure why. I was bored, the money is good... you know, it's a job. It's not the best job in the world, but it puts cash in my pocket."

" _And_ ruins countless lives," Kyle added. "Do you ever feel bad?"

Kyle knew it was a silly question the second he asked it, but he needed to hear Eric's answer nonetheless. A curiosity, rather than a judgement.

"People can do whatever the hell they like with their money," Eric replied.

Kyle snickered, derisive and quiet, and shook his head.

"I gotta admit, I was a little surprised to find out you were involved... and a little disappointed." Kyle let himself smile. "I mean, stealing cars is way more glamorous, right?"

It didn't waver, even when Eric looked at him with a small, amused smile and bright eyes.

"You actually think some crimes are more glamorous than others? What would the guys down at the precinct say?"

"What?" Kyle asked with a shrug. "It's the truth."

Eric didn't reply, but simply hummed in response. He kept his eyes on Kyle, luring him in, and staring at him so intently that Kyle felt just as small as his reflection in Eric's irises. Not as stark as the reflection in the bathroom, this reflection was tinted amber and coloured by Eric's perception. Kyle didn't feel self-conscious at all when he stared into Eric's eyes, so contemplative and deep in thought that Kyle couldn't possibly reach him. His mind and heart raced with what Eric could be thinking about, especially when his features were softened so dreamily to the point of admiration. The realisation brushed up against something Kyle had kept hidden, coaxing it to step into the light, but Kyle couldn't entertain such a notion... could he?

"So, detective..." Eric put his dinner back on the table and shifted closer to Kyle. Kyle didn't move, and he was unsure if it was because he was giving in, or unaffected, or holding out. "Are you gonna arrest me?"

"No." Kyle shook his head, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't right now."

Kyle saw Eric's tongue prod at his cheek, and shivered when Eric raked his calculating gaze over him. It wasn't unpleasant though.

"So why are you here? You must have a reason." He leaned in closer, eyes narrowed and smile goading. "Come on, what do you really want?"

Kyle felt confident enough to answer that one.

"To catch you."

Eric shook his head, and snatched his meal from the table again. 

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head. He reclined on the couch as he resumed eating. "I'm not buying it."

Kyle blinked, his brow furrowed. Anger swelled in his chest, and clutched his throat. What the fuck was there not to buy? Wasn't it obvious that's what Kyle wanted all along?! What the hell did Eric think they were doing?

"You're not- you're not _buying_ it?"

"Nope..."

"What the hell does that mean?" Kyle demanded.

Eric lolled his head, offering Kyle a smug, knowing look Kyle knew he wanted to punch right off his face.

"Kyle, you're a good detective. Hell, a _great_ detective. Believe me, I know, I've met enough of them. If you _really_ wanted to catch me, to bring me down, you would've done it already. But if you put me behind bars, what are you gonna do then? Would it really make you any happier? I'd be stuck in a cage with nowhere to go, and so would you. I'm part of your life now, I'm on your radar, and arresting me would just be like letting me go. No more wondering, no more run-ins, no more chasing each other. The game would finally be over. But you're like a gambling addict." Eric set down his food and leaned in closer again, his gaze boring into Kyle. "You need to keep playing. You can't let yourself stop, even when you think you should. You need this, and that's fine by me. Because I'm a gambler too, it's the business I'm in. I need to keep taking my chances with you, pushing the boundaries. This is the closest we've ever been to each other and you're not even trying to catch me when I could run any moment. But I won't." He shook his head, relaxed. His gaze now ran over Kyle like lazy raindrops on a window. "Not tonight. Tonight's special, now I can just sit back and look at you. Because as great as our little game is, this is just... perfect."

Kyle gulped, attempted to talk but he had no idea how to respond to that. What could he say? Should he say? What did Eric want to here, and more importantly, what was the right thing? Admittedly, preservation of the 'right thing' had been discarded the moment Kyle stepped into the apartment. In his swimming mind, the only right, real thing he could grasp was Eric's words, taut with an uncomfortable truth.

"That isn't... that isn't exactly healthy," Kyle replied.

Eric's smile disappeared, and his gaze wandered to the table. He sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions.

"I guess not, and in an ideal world I'd want so much more than that. But this isn't an ideal world, is it?" He glanced at Kyle to read the answer on his face. "Neither of us are gonna change."

Kyle lost his grasp of that uncomfortable, transcendent truth and sank into a far more sobering one. He nodded, hating himself. He and Eric fidgeted on the couch at the same time, the heavy tension making them bristle.

"Hey, uh, wanna watch some TV?" Eric asked, in an attempt to lift the mood. His eyes gleamed, promising. "We can catch an infomercial for the Little Country Handy Pillow or something."

Kyle nodded, still stiff and unsure. His fingers balled into fists, fighting the agitating itch of staying and leaving all at once. Eric reached for the remote and the TV came to life. It was far too bright in the early morning, and Kyle winced. It played a cheesy sitcom from the 90s.

"Ha!" Eric laughed. "Remember this show? I swear the hair was almost as bad as the acting."

Kyle smiled despite himself, unable to resist the chuckles bubbling in his throat. He caught Eric's glinting grin in the corner of his eye. As the show delivered one lame joke after another, punctuated with canned laughter, Kyle started to relax. He nestled into the couch cushions, snickered at a couple of jokes, and barely noticed Eric sitting next to him. Until a hand rested on top of his own. Eric's hand was warm, but still Kyle froze like icicles hung from his fingers. Still, he didn't snatch his hand away , nor did he jump up from the couch and leave immediately. He stayed, because Eric's soft palm resting gently on his knuckles was too good a feeling to pass up. Slowly, his hand started to relax beneath Eric's, and Eric took that as an invitation to slide his fingers over Kyle's until they were knitted together. Kyle couldn't feign coyness any longer. He glanced at their clasped hands and gulped, suddenly self-conscious that his hand was damp with sweat.

"You okay?" Eric asked, snapping Kyle out of his haze.

"Yeah..." Kyle whispered. Their eyes met and he smiled, squeezing Eric's hand a little tighter. "Yeah. I'm great."

Eric grinned in approval and moved in closer until their knees were touching.

"You're not nervous, at all?" he asked, gaze slipping to Kyle's mouth.

Kyle smirked before he could stop it, and shook his head. It was a half-truth. He was still scared, but not enough to deter him. His relief, and the heady connection between he and Eric only emboldened him. Eric glanced at the blinds, and reached over to close them. It was just he and Eric now, sealed off, sheltered from rules and reality. Before he could brace himself for it, Eric leaned in with dreamy, lidded eyes and pressed his lips to Kyle's. Eric, ever the thief, snatched the breath from Kyle's lungs with the tentative, brief kiss. His head was whirring in disbelief when they parted. In disbelief that Eric had actually done this, and in disbelief that after all those shameful, shaken dreams and broiling emotions it was better than Kyle could have ever expected. Even if was only for tonight, at least he got to experience it once.

"You smell... familiar," Eric said, still inches from Kyle's mouth. He looked into his eyes with a small smile. "Are you wearing my cologne?"

Kyle felt his shoulders hunch, his cheeks grow warmer.

"Uhh... yes? S-s-sorry, I was just in the bathroom and-"

Eric interrupted him with a harder, longer kiss.

"That's really fucking hot," he whispered with a grin.

"What?" Kyle chuckled. "Wearing your cologne?"

Eric nodded, eyes darkened and he wasted no time sampling Kyle's lips again.

"The cologne." Kiss. "The breaking into my apartment." Kiss, and a shaky warm exhale. Their noses brushed together. "All of it..."

Kyle chuckled in the space between their lips, before kissing Eric again. Swift, firm pecks were replaced by deeper, indulgent kisses, and Kyle was searing in his clothes. Inhibitions completely abandoned, he grabbed fistfuls of Eric's shirt and tilted his head to push his tongue into his mouth. His eyelids fluttered when he felt Eric slide his fingers into his hair, clutching his curls.

"How long can you stay?" Eric asked, pinked and panting.

"Uhh...I'm not sure, I-"

Eric interrupted him again with a kiss.

"Do you wanna stay over?"

Kyle tried to think of the case, of Stan, but it was all blurry to him now. He nodded, and Eric's smile was wide, bright, and infectious enough to convince Kyle he had made the right choice. They chuckled, delirious and mischievous, before exchanging more enthusiastic, swift kisses.  

"Wine?" Eric offered.

"That would be great." Kyle nodded, knowing wholeheartedly it would be.

Eric lifted himself up off the couch, offering Kyle one last smile before making his way to the kitchen. Alone on the couch, Kyle's breaths were coming thick and fast. His hair was mussed by Eric's fingers, and he could taste him on his lips. Of all the things he hoped to discover about Eric, never did he think discovering how he tasted, how he kissed, how he held someone would be possible. His cheeks ached from the weight of his smile, and he made himself comfortable on the couch. He stiffened however, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Retrieving it, he saw the name he was dreading. Stan. His heart thudded to a more anxious rhythm, and he knew he had to take the call. He stood up.

"I'm just, uh, going to the bathroom," he said, hoping he didn't sound as frightened as he felt.

Eric placed the glasses on the counter where Kyle could see, and poured the wine.

"Okay, no problem," he replied with a nod.

Kyle rushed to the bathroom without another word. Answering the call, his phone shook as he pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Kyle, what the fuck are you doing? Do you know how fucking terrified I was when I woke up and saw you had gone?! And then to see you across the street with him?! Have you fucking lost your mind? What the hell are you doing over there with the blinds closed? I mean, what the fuck?!"

"N-n-nothing!" Kyle replied, trying his hardest to keep his voice down. "Stan, please, it's nothing! Everything is under control, I promise you..."

"Oh no. Jesus Christ, no! If you're gonna fuck him, I swear to God-"

"I'm not gonna fuck him!" Kyle cut in, cringing at his blatant lie. "I'm talking to him! I needed to do this to get answers! Stan, we were getting nowhere-"

"Yeah, well, these things take time!" Stan snapped. "You can't just run over to a suspect's house as soon as you get the chance, just because you're impatient, or obsessed with them-"

"I'm not-"

"Kyle, please," Stan interjected, weary. "Spare me, okay?"

Kyle sighed, he supposed he had no excuse anymore. In fact, he was tired of pretending.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry, okay, I didn't know what else to do. I just..." he let out a shaky, desperate breath. His face creased, and he braced himself for what he was about to admit. "I needed to see him."

"Jesus..." Stan muttered. "Okay, look, I'm gonna call for some back up and get you out of there."

"What?" Kyle asked, startled. "Why?"

"Because you're in an apartment alone with a known and possibly dangerous criminal, are you fucking serious?!"

"He's not dangerous! I know he's not, just give me some more time, please?"

"Why, Kyle?" Stan demanded. "I can't see any reason why I should. I'm just doing my job, okay? We need to look out for each other. I don't wanna lose you over some infatuation turned ugly, alright?"

Kyle sighed, the realisation that he had no other choice weighed on his heart, and it creaked. The consequences were too huge, after all. They would crash into Eric and Kyle like a tidal wave and pull them apart.

"Fine..."

"Just stay put, and don't do anything stupid."

Kyle hung up, and when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bathroom cabinet, his crestfallen face said it all. He tucked his phone into his pocket, before his hand hovered over his gun.

Eric smiled when Kyle returned to the living room, setting their drinks down on the table.

"Hey, everything alright?"

Kyle pulled his gun out of the holster with a tight scowl, hoping it would steady his quivering hand.

"Get down on the floor and put your hands where I can see them."

Eric eyed Kyle up and down, an unsure. half-smirk on his face

"Seriously?" he chuckled. "Is this some kind of roleplay thing? Because I'm into that-"

"Down on the floor and put your hands where I can see them, do it now!" Kyle demanded. He couldn't listen to Eric . He knew how persuasive could be, and he was sure to change his mind about this with the right words.

Eric's whole body seemed to deflate with disappointment.

"Come on, don't do this," he pleaded softly.

Tears burned Kyle's eyes.

"I'm not gonna tell you again, get down on the fucking floor and put your hands where I can see them!" he yelled, voice cracking.

Slowly, eyes never leaving Kyle, Eric got down on his knees and raised his hands. Kyle finally felt like he could breathe again, but before he could say another word, Eric snatched his own gun from under the couch cushions and pointed it in Kyle's direction. Unlike Kyle, Eric's hand didn't tremble, and he watched, wide-eyed as Eric rose from the floor with his gun still aimed at him.

"So how long are we gonna stand here for?" Eric asked.

Kyle gulped, praying his frustrated tears wouldn't slide down his cheeks.

"Until you do what I told you to do."

"Then it looks like we're gonna be here for a while."

Now that they were in this horrible stalemate, Kyle was wracked with doubt about everything that had occurred before. Eric's touch, his kiss, his invitation, his words spoken with such earnest conviction, were they really so sincere? Was this whole experience so overwhelming that it had turned Kyle naive?

"Earlier, were you... were you serious?" he asked. "Did you mean everything you said to me?"

The corner of Eric's mouth twitched, and his face softened at the mention of the fresh, fond memory.

"Every word," he replied, never taking his eyes off Kyle. "And you know it. I don't even have to wonder, Kyle. I know you feel exactly the same way. I know exactly who you think you are, and who you really are. You and me, we're... we're not so different. It's a shame, really. In the long run we could've been good for each other. We could have made each other real happy."

His stinging tears were hard to ignore. Kyle could feel his face crumple, just as the walls of their brief, tangled, clandestine affair folded in too soon.

"I'm used to starting over," Eric continued, his smile growing. "I've done it a million times. Would've been nice to have some company though. Imagine that, following me instead of chasing me. Yeah, it can get a little crazy out there, and dangerous but..." he snickered. "That's clearly not a problem for you. Otherwise you wouldn't be standing here. I think you could've handled it. In fact, I think you would've thrived."

They both jumped as the door flew open, revealing Stan angrier than Kyle had ever seen him, with his gun aimed squarely at Eric.

"Lower your weapon! Get down on your knees!"

Eric looked between a seething Stan and a bewildered Kyle, and complied. He raised his hands, and got down on his knees, setting the gun down on the coffee table next to the abandoned Chinese food and wine.

"Stan, what the hell are you doing?" Kyle asked as he marched past.

"Saving you," Stan replied brusquely.

Kneeling down, he forced Eric's hands behind his back. Kyle heard the clink of handcuffs and winced. How could an image he had fantasised about for so long taste so bittersweet? To make it worse, Eric's stare was relentless.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. With these rights in mind, are you still willing to talk with me about the charges against you?"

Eric nodded, and got up with a huff when Stan gave him a tug to do so. While Stan couldn't stomach looking at Kyle as they left, Eric kept his eyes trained on Kyle as he was led out the door.

* * *

Sitting outside Captain Yates' office with his head in his hands, Kyle should've been thinking about a lot of things. He should've been thinking of the disastrous repercussions his impulsive visit to Eric's apartment had on the case. He should've been thinking about the earful he would receive off Captain Yates, what it meant for his career, how long he could possibly be suspended for.  But all he could think of was Eric. Their evening together, that whirlwind snapshot of what they could've possibly had in an ideal, fairytale world, and finally succumbing to a fixation gnawing at him for years had solidified everything Kyle thought he could fight forever. He was too exhausted to even try redirecting his thoughts. He knew it would be futile.

Stan was asked to interrogate Eric. It was a smart move, no matter how many screaming voices inside Kyle disagreed. Lifting his head from his hands, he saw Stan approach him. Kyle was out of his seat before he even knew it, and when Stan was right in front of him, his drained pallor and dark, heavy eyes made him wince with recognition.

"He confessed to everything."

Kyle placed his hand on his stomach, his skin prickling. Now that he wasn't expecting. Giddy laughter trickled from his lips before he could stop it. He clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Oh my God, really?" he asked. "Everything?" That word unleashed paranoid butterflies in his stomach. "And when you say _everything_... do you mean-"

"He didn't tell me what went on in the apartment," Stan quickly assured him, shaking his head. "I don't wanna know."

"Oh..." Kyle nodded, voice quiet and cheeks flushing. "Oh, that's good. I'm glad... not that anything _happened_... I just-"

"So, uh, are you alright?" Stan cut in. His face was creased with discomfort.

Kyle sighed, he had no idea how he was feeling. Or how he should be feeling. He shook his head.

"I don't know. I will be, I guess..." he offered Stan a small smile. "But I am _thinking_ about therapy, so..."

Stan clapped Kyle on the shoulder, and Kyle immediately relaxed.

"Oh, uh, he also asked me to give you something..."

Kyle watched, intrigued and anxious, as Stan reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, folded up piece of paper. Knowing it contained possibly the last communication he and Eric would have together seized Kyle's breath. He took the paper off Stan, not entirely sure he wanted to have it. He raised his eyebrows at Stan, as if he knew what was written.

"I'll let you read it alone," Stan instead offered.

"Thanks, Stan." Kyle smiled. "For everything."

"No problem," Stan replied, with a tight smile of his own.

Kyle watched Stan walk away, and then glanced around quickly before he unfolded the letter.

" _Congratulations, babe. You got me. In cuffs, at least. Because really, you had me from the moment we met. Come visit me. Eric x"_


End file.
